


Push and Pull

by equivalent_exchange



Series: Keep Me Warm [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action Figures, Angst, Drama, F/M, Fanart Photo Edit, Feels, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24885268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equivalent_exchange/pseuds/equivalent_exchange
Summary: Cracking her eyes open, she hesitantly turns towards his voice and tries to blink the sleepiness from her vision. Any other person would be terrified in her situation, waking from a sound sleep to a fully armored Mandalorian perching above them like a gargoyle.This isn’t surprising though; he somehow always knows when she’s near.It’s a never-ending cycle - she pushes, he pulls - together they break and put their pieces back each and every time.But the cracks run deep.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune, Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Keep Me Warm [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797451
Comments: 55
Kudos: 95





	1. Hazy

**Author's Note:**

> Photo originally posted to tumblr.
> 
> A series/collection of photo edits of our two favorite space idiots being in love.
> 
> If you've been following me on tumblr, then you know how obsessed I am with my new action figures!
> 
> Used:  
> Star Wars Hasbro: The Black Series Action Figures
> 
> The Mandalorian and Cara Dune

The warmth of the rising sun rouses Cara from a comfortable sleep, and she immediately tenses when she feels someone else’s presence.

“It’s just me. I know you’re awake,” the voice announces softly from somewhere above the ex-shock trooper.

Cracking her eyes open, she hesitantly turns towards his voice and tries to blink the sleepiness from her vision. Any other person would be terrified in her situation, waking from a sound sleep to a fully armored Mandalorian perching above them like a gargoyle.

This isn’t surprising though; he somehow always knows when she’s near.

It’s a never-ending cycle - she pushes, he pulls - together they break and put their pieces back each and every time.

But the cracks run deep.

\----

Instead of sitting up, Cara pillows her arms beneath her head, crosses her ankles and looks towards the brightening sky. The sky is a mixture of yellows and oranges, the blue of the night sky slowly pulling back to make way for daylight.

Without looking at him, she asks with a yawn, “When did you climb up here?”

“Last night, you had put out your campfire about an hour or so before I arrived,” Din replies.

Her face scrunches in confusion and Cara turns to him with clearer eyes, “You’ve been here all night?”

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” he says quietly, “I saw your fire in the distance, and figured no one else would camp in a place that’s such a pain to get to. If – if you needed a place to stay, why didn’t you just come in?”

Her heart nearly stops at his tone, the sadness, the disappointment, the _yearning_.

She opens her mouth, but the words won’t come out. Din is watching her, waiting for her reply, and when she can’t give one, he sighs and continues.

“It’s been months, Cara. How many times are we going to keep doing this?” Din asks, and even through his helmet, she can feel him pleading with her.

Averting her eyes, she sits up and rests her elbows on her bent knees.

Her breath stutters with her words, “I don’t know, Din,” she chuckles ruefully, shaking her head, “I don’t know. Every time I think I can stay away; I miss you even more. I keep coming back, even though I know how much it hurts both of us each time.”

Another sigh, “…I love, you,” he says tiredly.

_Crack._

“I know.”

Cara doesn’t say the words back to him, not once in all the time they’ve been meeting like this. Not even that first time they gave in to their feelings.

But Din does, each and every time, says them in as many ways as he can, all in the hopes that she’ll _stay_.

She never does.

Over and over, the cycle starts again.


	2. Stillness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, as he trudges along the rocky path, his mind goes through the all too familiar process of trying to figure out a way to convince her to stay, even for just a little while. Each time he’s been unsuccessful, but he still holds onto the hope that they can somehow return to what they were, when they were happy and together – her, him, and the kid.
> 
> A family.

Din noticed her campfire almost immediately, it was the same location she used previously, and that fact made his heart beat faster. Whenever she came back it was usually someplace different along that mountain range, but one thing was always certain, it was close enough for him to know she was near.

He tries not to think that this might mean something significant, but in the back of his mind, that small voice is telling him that maybe he’s getting through to her. Slowly, but surely.

Now, as he trudges along the rocky path, his mind goes through the all too familiar process of trying to figure out a way to convince her to stay, even for just a little while. Each time he’s been unsuccessful, but he still holds onto the hope that they can somehow return to what they were, when they were happy and together – her, him, and the kid.

A _family._

It makes him ache thinking of how much they’ve fallen apart. He knows they can fix _this_ but convincing her is so much more difficult. Despite how many times she’s left, she still comes back, time and time again – she still cares, she still loves them, loves them so much it drives her away.

\----

Climbing the final ledge, Din hoists himself up, lingering in the shadows for a moment to catch his breath and slow his racing heart.

Cara’s back rests against the wall as she sits, sipping from her canister while looking out towards the early night. Din can’t ignore the fact that her eyes are gazing softly at the house in the distance.

“Din, I know you’re there,” she calls.

Emerging from the shadows, he quietly takes a seat next to her and follows her line of sight. The light shining through the window calls out to them like a beacon, calling them _home_.

_Crack._

He hopes one day they can walk through the door together again instead of meeting like this, in the stillness of the night like a dirty secret.

Breaking the silence, Din asks, “When did you arrive?”

“Earlier this afternoon, around sunset.”

“And you plan to leave in the morning?”

“…Yeah.”

Her hands are in her lap now, and she’s staring intently at the drink, as if she can find all the solutions to their problems at the bottom of the container.

If only it were that easy.

The next thing he knows, her hand is on the inside of his thigh, fingers teasing him through the thick material of his clothes, and his blood immediately begins rushing to his groin.

He both loves and hates how quickly his body responds to her touches.

“Cara…” he groans, taking her hand in his and guiding it to his growing bulge.

Together they palm him through his pants, his hips shallowly grinding into their hold. Din’s breath is quickening, and his body is nearly vibrating with anticipation. With a huff, he rises to his feet before pulling Cara up and pressing her back into the rocky wall behind her, his hands on her waist and hips nestled perfectly between her legs.

Pressing his helmet to her head, Din can hear her labored breathing, and he wishes he could remove his helmet to feel his lips on her skin.

His modulated voice rasps in her ear, sending shivers down her spine, “I love you, Cara,” gripping her tighter, “I need you… so much.”

Gripping the fabric around his neck, she turns and pushes her forehead into his, hard. Each deep exhale fogs his visor and Din hopes that maybe he’s finally getting through to her. That maybe she can see and understand how deeply she’s penetrated the depths of his soul; how much he loves her despite their flaws and past mistakes.

“Din, I –“ she chokes out.

Reaching between them, she unfastens his pants to pull him from his confines, and the moment she touches his bare skin, he can’t help the loud moan that echoes in the air. It doesn’t take long to undo Cara’s pants, to slide them off and push her damp panties aside before Din slides into her wet heat. With his hands under her thighs, the Mandalorian lifts the woman as she wraps her legs around him, drawing him closer, letting him sink deeper and deeper.


	3. Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had gotten back from Cara’s camp early morning, just before sunrise. Thankfully the kid was still asleep when he stepped through the door, and Din was too tired to even make it to the bed, opting instead to sleep on the couch, armor and all.
> 
> That doesn’t seem to be the case now, as his ad’ika stands on his chest with long ears perked and a hopeful look in his eyes as he scans the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, an update! I had hit a slump after finishing my previous WIP, and seeing all the beautiful and amazing updates these past few days has given me some motivation. 😅

Din wakes to a slight pressure on his chest accompanying a quiet coo.

He had gotten back from Cara’s camp early morning, just before sunrise. Thankfully the kid was still asleep when he stepped through the door, and Din was too tired to even make it to the bed, opting instead to sleep on the couch, armor and all.

That doesn’t seem to be the case now, as his _ad’ika_ stands on his chest with long ears perked and a hopeful look in his eyes as he scans the room.

Sighing tiredly, the Mandalorian rubs the baby’s back gently, “No, I’m sorry _ad’ika_. I couldn’t bring her home this time,” the little boy’s body sags at the news, “I know you miss her. I do, too.”

Din holds his son to his chest as he shifts on the couch, sitting up and rubbing his neck to ease the soreness. Resting his back and slumping into the slight indent of the cushions, he removes his helmet and rakes a hand through his hair. Looking down to the creature cuddling into his beskar, Din couldn’t help but feel the sharp knife of guilt cut through him. Each and every time he and Cara meet, he comes home and sees the Child’s eyes bright with hope and longing, and each and every time Din has to disappoint him.

_Crack._

Removing his gloves, Din strokes his son’s long ears before gently rubbing the area along the tender raised flesh on the side of his face. The wound itself has long healed, but the scar and memories still remain - for his son, for him, and for Cara.

Luckily his _ad’ika_ was only hit with a grazing blow from the Darksaber, but it was enough to make their hearts stop the moment his pained cries cut through the air.

If only they knew that their real fight to stay together would begin once Gideon’s corpse hit the floor.

The ache and soreness resonating throughout Din’s body can’t all be attributed to the long diagonal scar from his left collarbone that nearly reaches his right hip. Physically, like his son, the wound has healed, but every time he’s reminded of what was lost as a result sends twinges of pain, almost as if telling him the battle isn’t over yet.

When Cara left, it was with a heavy heart filled to the brim with so much guilt and self-loathing that no words could convince her to stay. To see the embodiment of her perceived failure every single day was too much to bear, and with a gentle touch of her lips to Din’s helmet and the top of the boy’s head, she stepped through the door.

It’s been months now, too many that Din refuses to count, and despite each morning he comes back to his son alone, they still remain hopeful.

With another sigh Din drops a kiss to a fuzzy, wrinkly head. Pulling back, he looks into his son’s big dark eyes and sees the same sadness he feels in those giant pupils. Not for the first time, Din wonders how much this child truly understands. His powers, this _force_ , allows him to not only move objects with his mind, but also gives him a sort of sixth sense that Din still has trouble wrapping his mind around. The kid always knows when Din goes to see Cara, always, as if he can somehow feel her presence in the mountains, or even the weariness and heartache emanating from his father’s soul each time he returns without her.

It would be so easy for them to just pack up and take to the stars to find her, but they built this home for a reason. Din owes it to his son, as a Mandalorian and as a father, to be here with him now.

A quiet coo breaks his train of thought, and with a quick eye to his vambrace, Din rises to his feet. Tucking his _ad’ika_ into one arm, he walks towards the kitchen to start the pot of caf and rummage through the fridge for something edible.

“ _Ad’ika_ , I hope you know that she misses you, too. Your mother… she has something important to do. Something she needs to find before she can come back home. But never doubt that she loves you, ok? We both do,” his son’s soft chirp and smile both warms Din’s heart and breaks it all at once.

To raise him alone like this, it wasn’t the plan. Every fiber of Din’s being wishes Cara was standing right next to them, like she used to. He understands her decision, and Din wasn’t going to try and force her to stay. But that won’t stop him from telling the woman he loves that they miss her.

Coming home won’t solve the problem, he knows that, there are other underlying issues that they need to work through, but Cara needs to be the one to take that first step. As much as it kills him to see her walk away time and time again, he’ll be there when she’s ready.

Clearing his throat before the tears can spill, Din straightens and begins preparing breakfast, “Now let’s get you fed. You have training soon and we’ll have to hurry if we want to make it to the temple in time. Don’t want to keep your Master waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, lots of backstory in this one, and hopefully it's answered some questions as well as roused new ones.
> 
> Because I'm evil like that. 😏
> 
> My mind and ideas are a bit more ambitious than I'd like them to be, but sometimes you can't ignore that creative nagging in the back of your head. In other words, I'm working on the sequel to [Mend These Trends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299779/chapters/58576090) that nobody asked for, and there's a strong possibility it will turn out to be a trilogy. 😐
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment! They genuinely brighten my day to know someone likes my work, and it keeps me motivated to write more! Thank you! ❤️


	4. In Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earn money, beat up fools asking for a fist to the face, and distract herself from her real problems.
> 
> A win–win in her book.
> 
> She can make a living here, at least for a while. Mercenary work during the day then brawl at night, and when this place loses its appeal, all she has to do is jump in her ship and onto the next planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! Thank you to everyone who continue to read this, and I hope you enjoy!

Collapsing onto the bed, Cara hisses at the numerous stinging cuts and bruises littering her body from another round at the cantina fight cage. Taking on an armed opponent for a bag of credits has its benefits with the gamblers. If she wins tomorrow’s fight against two, she’ll have enough to be comfortable for the next few weeks.

Earn money, beat up fools asking for a fist to the face, and distract herself from her real problems.

A win–win in her book.

She can make a living here, at least for a while. Mercenary work during the day then brawl at night, and when this place loses its appeal, all she has to do is jump in her ship and onto the next planet.

Rolling onto her side, Cara flinches at the pain from the finger shaped bruises beneath her clothes. The ones on her hips from when Din gripped her so tightly as he moved within her, pressed his chest to hers so hard she could practically feel his racing heart thundering under his beskar.

_“I miss you. I miss you so much, Cara…”_

\----

It’s been weeks now since she last saw Din and the house in the distance.

How much longer can she keep doing this to them? To herself?

Lying on the bed of her rented room in another nameless town, Cara can’t deny she misses them, wants to be with Din and the baby so much it physically aches.

Every time she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she can muster the courage to knock on that door, the guilt floods in so savagely it nearly drowns her where she stands.

They almost died because of her, and she can never erase that mistake.

_Crack._

For weeks Din was confined to a bed in the first dingy med clinic she was able to find. The burns on his torso were so severe that for days he couldn’t tell up from down with how much bacta and pain meds were pumping through him. It took time and a lot of arguing, but Cara was able to convince him to stay put while he healed, at least enough to be on his feet.

Despite his foggy mind, he was coherent enough to make her promise that the moment there was danger, they’d leave - no questions, no arguments - just run, and don’t look back.

It took the baby just as long to heal as Din. For such a powerful being, he was still just a child; their child that they rocked to sleep when he was being fussy and had a certain penchant for trying to eat anything remotely metallic and shiny.

All the doctors were baffled. They had never seen a creature like him, and treating an unknown species was tricky, requiring careful observation along with trial and error. Thankfully he eventually responded well enough to treatment and was moved from intensive care to Din’s room once they were both stabilized.

The moment he opened his eyes days later, they couldn’t hold back their tears.

\----

Cara carefully retrieves the round metal knob from one of her pockets, the dull gray color offering the shock trooper a modicum of comfort. Lifting the object towards the small ray of morning sunlight peeking through the curtains, the Child’s prized possession shines in her hand.

He had gifted it to her the last time they saw each other. Just as Cara threw her pack over a shoulder so long ago, a small tug on her boot made her freeze. When she turned, he was holding the ball out to her with downcast eyes and a quiet whimper. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop her body from trembling, not when her son pushed the metal into her palm, nor when Din wordlessly held their son in his arms as she gave them both a kiss goodbye before walking out the door.

Clutching the knob in her hand, she reaches for her worn stuffed teal frog and cradles it to her chest. The only companion she has now, the one-eyed toy reminds her of the family she left behind, the one she can never forget no matter how much time and distance she tries to put between them.

It was only by chance that she saw the frog at the market. While shopping for supplies, the sound of a baby’s laughter caught her off guard, making her freeze in a panic, but Cara had to quickly remind herself that Din and their son were lightyears away where she left them. Against her better judgement, she turned towards the baby and its mother and saw the frog amongst a pile of stuffed toys. It was like her body moved of its own accord, and the next thing she knew, she had a hand atop the animal’s head, bare fingers lightly stroking the soft fuzz.

Burying her face in the teal amphibian’s head, Cara takes a deep breath. Instead of the light herbal scent and warm soft skin with sparse white hairs of her son, she feels the synthetic fibers brushing against her damp cheeks, silent tears soaking into the material that smells too much like herself.

Everything is so, so wrong.

There isn’t a solid weight on her chest cooing in his sleep. The sheets are too stiff, too cold and clean, longing for the faint smell of polished metal and slight indents in the mattress. She misses Din’s heat against her side and around her waist as the kid nuzzles into her warmth, their quiet snores lulling her to sleep amongst the chirping insects and woodland breeze from the open bedroom window.

Nothing is as it should be anymore, and she has nobody to blame but herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me...
> 
> I feel like I should apologize for more of the angst, but then again, we gotta hit the bottom before we can start climbing up that hill, right? 😅
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment! They genuinely brighten my day to know someone likes my work, and it keeps me motivated to write more! Thank you! ❤️


	5. Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the seven-week mark Din feels it, feels her, feels her presence somewhere in those mountains in a way he never has before, and the next thing he knows the door is sliding shut behind him.

It’s been nearly a month since he last saw her, the longest she’s been away, and with each passing day the feeling of dread grows steadily. He knows she’ll come back, _he knows_ , but that tiny voice in the back of his mind, the doubts and fear he’s been able to push back are louder now. They’re telling him that Cara finally gave up, that she’s gone for good and now all he and the baby will have are memories and ‘what ifs.’

\----

At the seven-week mark Din feels it, feels _her_ , feels her presence somewhere in those mountains in a way he never has before, and the next thing he knows the door is sliding shut behind him.

\----

The sun is only beginning to set when he finds her, pack slung over one shoulder in a way that reminds him of that fateful day. She hasn’t even set up camp yet, and the look of surprise and conflict flashing across her face when she notices him are unmistakable.

With a heavy swallow, she mumbles, “Hey…”

Cara clutches the strap of her bag tighter, and he can feel the tension in the air. Today is pivotal, a tipping point for them, and Din is almost certain Cara can hear how loud his heart is pounding with the terror gripping him so tightly, the sound echoing in his ears.

Bridging the gap between them, Din stands an arm’s length from her. His hands itch to hold her, but instead keeps them at his sides, fingers curling and flexing with anxiousness.

“Hi,” Din begins. A slow exhale, “I was worried. It’s… it’s been almost two months, and…”

“…You thought I wasn’t coming back,” she finishes sadly, knowing full well that she deserves that sentiment.

With the subtle nod of his head her guilt deepens, like a twisting blade to the gut that just keeps digging and digging.

She doesn’t know how, but suddenly something inside breaks, and then the tears are falling thick and heavy down her cheeks, distorting her vision. Even with Din standing so close, Cara can barely discern his features, his body a blur of grays, silvers, and blacks. Summoning her strength, despite the tears and quaking body, Cara’s voice cuts through it all and the Mandalorian’s heart nearly stops.

“Would it mean anything at all now, if I said I was sorry? For–for how much I’ve hurt you, hurt our–“ choking before she can utter that last word, instead saying, “For everything?”

One step closer, “Cara…”

“I can never ask for your forgiveness for what I’ve put you through, but Din, I–I have to know…” shutting her eyes, Cara doesn’t bother to hide the heartbreak and self-loathing from her words, “Do… do you blame me for what happened that day? For everything that’s happened because of it?”

They stand frozen on a cliff with the setting sun in the distance, and he knows his answer to her question will change everything.

He’s asked himself this very same question more times than he cares to admit, and each time he comes to the same conclusion, the same answer. His reasons different every time, Din won’t deny how painful this past year has been without her, and Cara’s decision that day aboard Gideon’s ship altered their lives drastically.

But he remembers that not so long ago he made a decision too, one that still echoes in his life, _their_ lives, even now.

The moment he decided to return to the Imperial hideout to take back the baby, to try and repent for his sin, he unknowingly marked his Covert for death. His actions that day changed so many lives, and he will always carry that with him. He’s made peace with what he has done, the ‘what ifs’ no longer haunting his every move, but instead has found purpose and reason to honor those gone too soon.

So now, as Cara stands before him, the same guilt and despair he knows so well weighing on her shoulders - how, how could he ever blame her for this?

This time, Din reaches for her hand and squeezes tight, resting his helmet gently to the top her bowed head.

She squeezes back.

With a soft caress of his finger, he carefully wipes the tears spilling down her cheek, the small tattoo beneath her eye a reminder that he believes she’ll get through this, they all will.

Din speaks barely above a whisper, but his voice somehow drowns out the pounding within her chest.

“No, I don’t blame you. Neither of us do. I was… sad… because I was afraid, afraid you’d lost your way. I was so terrified we’d lost you, that you were alone in… in all this.”

“I don’t know how to fix this, Din. There’s so much. I don’t… how can I…”

Wrapping his arms around her, Din hugs Cara close. So close that she’s sure he can tell how fast her heart is beating through his armor, and it hits her how much this feels like _home_.

The hard edges of his helmet are pressing into her, leaving indents on her tear-stricken skin, but she doesn’t care.

“I’m here, Cara. I’ve always been here,” he says quietly.

Burying her face in his cowl, Cara grips him so tightly that her arms ache, Din’s embrace soothing the deep-seated turmoil in her soul.

“I love you,” she breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line "I was… sad… because I was afraid, afraid you’d lost your way." is a reference to Avatar: The Last Airbender when Zuko and Iroh reunite in season 3 and Zuko apologizes for all the mistakes he's made. One of the best (of many) scenes of the series, in my opinion.
> 
> Another chapter down! Lots and lots of things happening here. So just wanted to say thank you for suffering with me, and we finally have some sort of progress!
> 
> Even though these chapters are short in length, I try to make them pack as much a punch as I can. A lesson in word restraint, I guess? 🤔
> 
> For those of you hoping for a quick and happy ending, I have some bad new for you... I really want to try and flesh out both Din and Cara's psyche because I'm trying to give this a hint of realism. In other words, very rarely do things as serious as this get resolved with an "I'm sorry."
> 
> So please don't kill me? 😅
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment! They genuinely brighten my day to know someone likes my work, and it keeps me motivated to write more! Thank you! ❤️


	6. Carry that Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as Din hates to admit it to himself, the man knows that his efforts are the only connection between the three of them now, and he hopes that for all the heartache and strife they can be together as a family again. What happened earlier is only the first step of many they need to find their way back to each other.

The sun had set long ago, and the stars twinkle in the night sky when Cara finally breaks their comfortable silence. Her fingers are still intertwined with Din’s as their backs rest against the rocky wall.

“How is he doing?” she whispers hesitantly.

Din’s brow furrows beneath his helmet as he contemplates his answer.

She doesn’t ask about their son as often as she likes, and from what he can guess it’s due to her feelings of guilt and shame, as if believing she didn’t deserve to know. A wave of sadness washes over the Mandalorian, for as many times as he’s been with her this past year, Cara and the baby haven’t seen or heard from each other since she left.

As much as Din hates to admit it to himself, the man knows that his efforts are the only connection between the three of them now, and he hopes that for all the heartache and strife they can be together as a family again. What happened earlier is only the first step of many they need to find their way back to each other.

Turning to the ex-trooper, Din notices that she’s gazing at the dark silhouette down below, the moonlight peeking through the clouds casting the empty house in an ethereal glow.

Sighing, he rests his head back against the rocks with a soft clink, “You can barely tell, but he’s gotten taller. He moves a lot faster now, too, and he knows it. When he’s feeling playful, he’ll have me chasing him around the house. One moment he’s right in front of me, I blink and all of a sudden, I hear his laughter from another room. Whatever he’s learning from the Jedi, he’s putting to good use. His powers have grown, as well. He’s using them more often and doesn’t tire as easily.

At the temple, he gets along well enough with the other kids, but I’ve noticed a few of the older ones are jealous he has a stronger…” he pauses, trying to find the right word, “ _connection_ to his powers. Despite that, he doesn’t let it get in his way.

A few weeks ago, we were at the river, and he was able to catch a fish all on his own. A sphere of water three times his size was floating towards me with it still swimming inside, and with a flick of his hand the sphere burst, and the fish dropped into my lap,” Din says in awe before chuckling, “Then the little womp rat toddled off to chase frogs along the riverbank leaving me soaked with our flailing lunch.”

“It sounds like he’s growing up fast,” she murmurs dejectedly.

Din understands what she’s really saying, the unspoken truth that they both know, and it breaks his heart that he can’t refute that blatant fact.

_“I’ve missed so much, haven’t I?”_

His stomach sinks when he responds with a simple, “Yes.”

\----

Their dinner is nothing more than ration bars and dried meat from Cara’s pack as the moon shines down on them brightly with their backs to each other. Her canteen sits between them within arm’s reach, the container switching hands after someone takes a small sip.

The sounds of their chewing and the light breeze fill the silence. Even through his armor, he can feel Cara’s back pressing against his, a comforting and familiar weight that he’s sorely missed. He fights the strong urge to tilt his head back to rest on hers, something they had done so many times in the past, and Din is once again cruelly reminded of how different things are between them now.

He swallows the harsh truth that they can never return to their life before. It would be an insult to try and sweep what’s happened under the proverbial rug and pretend to be who they were a year ago, but that doesn’t mean they can’t start again. They can rebuild their relationship and their family, pick up the broken pieces and put them back together in a new way, a stronger way.

At least, he hopes.

“I can feel you thinking, Din. What’s on your mind?” Cara asks abruptly.

Fixing his eyes to the moon, at first Din hesitates, but with a deep breath, he voices his question, his fear.

“Are you still hunting Imperials?”

He feels Cara freeze, and the Mandalorian bites his lip at her resulting silence.

After a few minutes, her body sags, the tension melting away in a muted sigh.

“…No, not anymore. Not for a while now,” she confesses.

“Why did you stop?”

Cara’s acrimonious laugh takes him by surprise, “You mean have I finally satisfied my need for revenge?”

“Cara…”

“That day, I was so blinded by rage and the need for revenge, for Alderaan, for you, for our son – for all the lives they’ve ruined. Those bastards wanted to experiment on him, on our boy, and if they couldn’t take him alive, they would have just as happily killed him. I snapped Din; I threw away our chance to safely escape because I wanted to put a hole in Gideon’s head.”

“And you did, if I remember correctly,” Din adds.

“But he nearly killed the two of you, and for what? Because I wanted him dead more than I wanted my family safe? You both were lying in bed hooked up to machines for a month just to survive while all I had were a few bruises and burns. How is that fair? The most important people in my life paid the price for my mistake, and I can’t take that back.”

Din can tell by her rasp in her voice that she’s crying again, and the tears stinging behind his own eyes threaten to spill along with hers.

“How do you see the scar on your chest, the scar on his face, and not blame me? How can you not hate me for what’s happened when I hate myself for it?” Cara asks bitterly.

The utter defeat and exhaustion Din can feel radiating from the woman behind him makes his body ache. A twinge of pain shoots down his middle, and the Mandalorian wonders if he’s imagining how the scar suddenly feels hotter.

Placing a hand on his chest over the scar, Din takes slow deep breathes in an effort to quell the pain before it overwhelms him.

“Din? What’s happening, are you hurt?”

Before Cara can turn around, Din quickly grabs her fingers and squeezes once. He feels her relax slightly and shift to rest against his back once more.

With a heavy swallow, the ex-trooper asks guiltily, “It still hurts doesn’t it, your scar?”

“I don’t blame you, Cara, and I don’t hate you, either. I can never hate you,” he sighs.

Carefully, Din leans his head back, when it finally connects with Cara’s, he lets his body ease at the feel of her against him. Not a moment later, the Mandalorian feels her relax into him and press her head back into his.

The bright full moon shining in the sky is now blurry around the edges as his tears fall, and now his chest aches with something different.

“I know we have a lot of things to work through, but I – _we_ love you, we always will. _Ad’ika_ and I, we need you. I’m doing my best for him, but it’s not the same. We need you,” he repeats, “I’ve lost so many people already, and I don’t want to lose you, too. I understand how you feel, Cara, I do. You know what I did to our boy, I gave him to the Empire for the beskar. Going back for him will never make up for what I did, and it resulted in the death of the Covert. It took a long time, but eventually I was able to accept what I had done and bury those sins.

But somehow in all this chaos I met you, and eventually we built a home together, became a _family._

We can get through this, I have to believe that, but – but I need you to believe it, too.”

This time, Cara is the one to seek his hand as her whole-body trembles. He hears her inhale as her fingers tighten around his, and Din holds onto her just as desperately, afraid to let go of the progress they’ve made today.

“Din, I need you to know that not a day goes by that I don’t think of you both. I don’t think I’m ready yet, but I – I want to come home.”

Clinging to one another, the weight of their future is heavy on their shoulders, but now it doesn’t seem so overwhelming if they bear it together.

\----

The next morning, Din can feel the heat of the rising sun on his back as the cold wind of the impending snowy months rushes past them, causing Cara to shiver and curl in on herself while lying together atop her bedroll. The Mandalorian wraps his cloak more securely around her quivering body and pulls her closer to shield her from the elements, relishing in the feel the arm around his waist tightening.

Cracking his eyes open beneath his helmet, he takes in the sight of her – the slightly parted lips along with her beautiful face free of tension and stress. These quiet moments are some of the ones he misses the most, to be together during the peaceful moments of the sunrise. Brushing the fallen strands of hair from Cara’s face, he tries to memorize every little piece of her.

Cara rouses to the sensation of something caressing her cheek, and her sleep fogged eyes open to the fuzzy form of a familiar silver helmet while its owner’s fingers cradle her face.

Turning her head, the woman places a chaste kiss to his palm before closing her eyes once more.

Drifting back to sleep, she mumbles a sleepy, “Love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I'm back! Sort of... please forgive me? 😅
> 
> A new video game has taken over my life the past few weeks, so I've been slacking off in the writing and reading department. I have sooo much to catch up, fics to read, comments to leave, etc. So to my dear friends, I apologize and I'll send you my love soon!
> 
> As you can see, there's a been a change to Din's cape. I took the plunge and replaced his old cloak that came with the figure with a new soft cloak! Part of the reason I've been lagging is because I had to wait for it to arrive and then take new pictures. So really, this little break was for the benefit of us all, right? Right? 😂
> 
> This chapter is a lot longer than my usual length for this series, but I felt that they had to get some things off their chests and I would be a horrible person to split that into separate chapters.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment! They genuinely brighten my day to know someone likes my work, and it keeps me motivated to write more! Thank you! ❤️


	7. Little Pieces of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before these two came into his life, a solitary life providing for the Covert was enough, but now that he knows what it’s like to have purpose, something to come home to, a chance at happiness, he wasn’t going to let that go, not without a fight.

Resting his chin on Cara’s shoulder, Din relishes in the feel of her body pressed so intimately against his, wishing that he could remove his helmet and press his lips to her skin.

The cloudy late morning sky offers the couple a slight reprieve from the usual blinding sun, and the cold, chilling wind is the perfect excuse for the Mandalorian to cover them in his cloak and hold the woman sitting between his legs as tightly as he can. From the way that Cara is leaning into him and gripping the arms around her, she doesn’t seem to mind either, both taking solace in this newfound understanding and closeness after a year of fleeting encounters and hushed words.

He knows he shouldn’t get ahead of himself, but Din can’t help how his mind wanders into quick daydreams of walks along the river behind their home - hand in hand while their boy chases frogs, or sitting around the table sharing a meal and laughing together over stupid anecdotes while the kid levitates his food to impress them. What he yearns for the most though, is the feel of her skin on his, during the silent hours of the night where they can be together, just the two of them, and the galaxy wouldn’t seem like such a big, lonely, and overwhelming place.

There’s no denying how much he misses Cara - as the mother of his son, a hunting partner, a confidant, his best friend, and lover.

Before these two came into his life, a solitary life providing for the Covert was enough, but now that he knows what it’s like to have purpose, something to come home to, a chance at _happiness_ , he wasn’t going to let that go, not without a fight.

Two beeps sound from Din’s vambrace and they tense at the noise.

Reality is calling them back.

“What is it?” she asks.

Sighing, the Mandalorian replies, “I need to pick him up from the temple soon. He’s been spending more nights there, but anytime I can have him home, I’ll take. It’s too quiet when it’s just me.”

_“Do you want to come with me?”_

He opens his mouth to ask the question, the words on the tip of his tongue, but instead closes his mouth and squeezes her a fraction more.

Cara’s whisper is so low that Din nearly misses her words, “I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

\----

Their camp is nearly packed when Cara takes a seat next to the Mandalorian, reaching into her pack and pulling out a small metal box.

Holding the object in her lap, she traces the edges with her fingers, almost reverently, and Din notices the slight tremble when she slowly hands him the box.

“I want you two to have these,” she says simply.

Carefully, he pushes the button to unlock the latch, and gingerly lifts the lid. Nestled inside are three wooden figurines, each small enough to fit into his palm, but it’s what they represent that takes his breath away.

Lifting the first figure, there’s no mistaking the image of their son with his long ears, big knowing eyes, and oversized robes.

Din turns to Cara, both in awe and hoping for an explanation.

“I worked on these when I would miss you. Sometimes I would cry, other times I would start fights in a cantina,” she begins, “But late at night when I would miss what it feels like to hold you two, I would carve these. All the tiny details I could remember, I tried to recreate, hoping that it wouldn’t hurt as much, but it just made things worse.”

Pulling the second figure from the box, she holds the dark smooth wooden replica of his beskar helmet in her hand, thumb caressing the visor.

“No matter what I did, I couldn’t get you out of my head. Making these brought some comfort, but the guilt, too. That after everything, I don’t feel like I deserve you two. Even now, I still feel that way,” she confesses. “I wasn’t sure how our meeting would go this time around, but I told myself that whatever happened, I would give these to you.”

Replacing the figure of their son, Din picks up the third one and notices how different it is from the others.

While the recreations of his helmet and the baby are detailed, smoothed, and meticulously cared for, her own figure is rough with sharp unrefined edges, lacking the craftsmanship she’d given the other two.

Din gently traces her wooden features with the tip of his gloved finger, feeling each dip, groove, and point of the carved face. He understands, that this is how she sees herself now, different from who she was a year ago, but unsure of the person staring back in the mirror.

He finally musters the strength to speak, “I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself,” he says wistfully, “We all have our flaws, we’re only human after all. Well, you and me, anyways,” Din comments, both laughing at the thought of their son’s still unknown species. “After what happened on Nevarro, you didn’t judge me for what I did. You didn’t look at me like the failure and disgrace that I felt I was. Do you remember what you told me back when I asked what you thought of me?”

Cara’s face scrunches in concentration, remembering that conversation, and how if she were to look back, that day might have been where _they_ began, even if they didn’t know it.

With a huff and nostalgic smile, the ex-trooper replies, “I told you ‘If the kid can still tolerate you after all this, then there must be something underneath all that beskar worth caring for. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.’”

“Exactly. I don’t know if you realized at the time, but it made a difference, to have someone see me for something other than my mistakes, something worth a damn.

I hope that you find what you need to work through this, to come to peace with yourself and what’s happened. I’m here for you, every step of the way, whatever you need, if – if you want me to be. He can be too, if you let him.”

“…I’ll try, I promise. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’ll make this up to you both, somehow.”

Clutching her wooden carving as tightly as he dares, “Just come back to us, but only when you’re ready. We’ll be here waiting.”

\----

All of her belongings are gathered in a neat pile when a sudden gust of wind rushes past them, making Cara’s skin erupt into goosebumps to fight the cold.

Setting the box down, Din straightens and brings his hands to his collar and begins undoing his cloak.

Baffled by his actions, Cara quickly blurts, “Din, what are you doing?”

Draping the fabric over her shoulders and around the neck of her armor, Din double knots the cloak for a secure fit and looks her over, smoothing out some of the creases.

“Just take it? As much as I want to, I can’t go with you. It’s cold out there in space, at least let me do what I can to keep you warm.”

With a step, Cara wraps her arms around the Mandalorian, pressing her cheek into his. When she feels Din’s hand tangle in her hair to pull her closer, she tells him unshakably, “I love you.”

His fingers curl in her raven colored tresses, “I love you, too.”

Loosening his hold, Din takes her hands and places them on his chest. Next, he playfully knocks his forehead to hers, their old tradition of a headbutt before parting ways for a job.

_“Be safe. Come home soon.”_

_“I will.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Cara has the cloak now, and I fucking love it. More of our girl in Din's cloak coming to a screen near you, soon-ish. But more importantly, these two have made sooo much progress. We learned a bit more about each of them, and where they stand, but also what they hope for. Plans for Cara and baby interaction in the next chapter!
> 
> I feel very out of practice, and yes, I know that means I need to write more. 😂
> 
> As many of you already know, we have a release date for season 2, and I am stoked! News of the release date has gotten me excited, and I'm ready to get back into the nitty gritty of writing.
> 
> The smut wip is my writing priority for now, so fingers crossed I can get that out relatively soon?
> 
> That being said, I also need to catch up on reading and commenting on about a month's worth of fics. RIP to me. 💀
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment! They genuinely brighten my day to know someone likes my work, and it keeps me motivated to write more! Thank you! ❤️


	8. Hello, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beep from his vambrace reminds Din of the time, and he moves towards the kitchen, quickly setting the stove to prepare their dinner. Just as he’s adding the cut vegetables and meat to the pot, a familiar ring sounds from the baby’s table followed by his son’s excited squeal. Laughing to himself, Din scoops up the child and quickly accepts the transmission. The moment Cara’s image fizzles into sight, the baby immediately perks and squirms in his hold. 
> 
> Adjusting him, Din asks cheerily, “Who’s that, kid?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert cricket noises*
> 
> Surprise? I'm not dead? Or am I? Jury's still out on that one...

Coming through the front door, a tiny, green, long eared child quickly waddles to the brown bench and table tucked in the back corner of the room while his father shakes his head fondly at the obvious excitement.

Turning off the hover carrier and setting their snow coats aside, Din shakes off the last remnants of white frost from his armor and carefully rolls his aching shoulder. The snow has been coming down in flurries these past few days, and while the little one is overjoyed to play hide and seek in the soft powder on their way to the temple most the mornings, Din is sorely reminded of all his old injuries as soon as the temperature drops. The Mandalorian feels the years of hunting with each crack, ache, and grind of his bones, and despite his efforts to ignore it, the scarred flesh of his chest is more sensitive now, too.

Looking to the child sitting expectantly on the bench, still a shining ball of energy, sometimes Din wonders who’s really over fifty years old, the kid or him.

A beep from his vambrace reminds Din of the time, and he moves towards the kitchen, quickly setting the stove to prepare their dinner. Just as he’s adding the cut vegetables and meat to the pot, a familiar ring sounds from the baby’s table followed by his son’s excited squeal. Laughing to himself, Din scoops up the child and quickly accepts the transmission. The moment Cara’s image fizzles into sight, the baby immediately perks and squirms in his hold.

Adjusting him, Din asks cheerily, “Who’s that, kid?”

The happy babbles coming from the little boy brings a smile to Cara and Din’s faces. While not the first time she’s called since vowing to return home, the day of their weekly transmissions never cease to brighten the spirits of the father and son duo.

To give his kid a connection with his mother again, while not in the most ideal way, he isn’t about to squander the opportunity for them to begin rebuilding their relationship, especially when he knows just how much they both _need_ it. Since the last time Cara was here, when he tied his cloak around her shoulders and she said she loved him, the Mandalorian has seen their bond improve leaps and bounds within these few weeks than in the entire year before that. While physically absent, she makes the effort to call every week to _be_ with them, even if only over holo.

_“Hey! There’s my little man! Did you get taller since the last time I talked to you? At this rate you’ll be the size of a wookie, huh? I mean, you sure have the appetite of one,”_ Cara teases with a chuckle and a wink. Adjusting herself, now that the transmission is stable, she gets comfortable in the nearby seat, draping the cloak over her legs like a blanket and settling in with a cup in hand. _“Alright, kiddo, so tell me, what’s new with you? Learn anything new at that fancy Jedi school of yours?”_

At the mention of ‘Jedi’, the kid’s face perks, and he dives into a series of animated gibberish and coos. Din and Cara focus intently on their boy, whose language skills are rapidly improving but is still leaves something to be desired and is far from Basic. While Din understands most of what he’s saying, Cara has to concentrate, but she’s learning fast, picking up the tiny nuances and quirks that give her the ability to better converse with the womp rat.

A loud whistle from the kitchen makes all three turn, and the kid’s eyes widen at the sound of dinner.

Moving him off his lap, Din stands with a grunt, his knees popping with the effort, and Cara doesn’t bother stifling her laugh.

_“What’s the matter, gettin’ rusty there Djarin?”_

Straightening, he stretches his legs and back, earning more subtle cracks, pops, and another round of giggles from Cara and the kid.

“No sympathy for your old man, _ad’ika_? Her, I understand, but _you_? I thought that master of yours is supposed to be teaching you compassion. If you had to trudge through a snowstorm every day neither of you’d be laughing. Just you wait,” he jests. “Anyways, keep talking. I’m just getting his food prepared.” Silently adding the finishing touches to their dinner, Din softly smiles to himself under the helmet as he listens to the conversation coming from the other room.

_“Wait, wait! Slow down!”_ she laughs _“You’re picking what from a cave? I don’t understand…”_

Repeating the story with short babbles, Din can understand where Cara keeps hitting a wall. While the Mandalorian knows what _ad’ika_ is referring to, without the proper context, she must think the Jedi go rooting through caves for fun, and the image of a bunch of kids sifting through random rocks and bugs to show their Master is much more amusing to him than it should be.

Bowl of stew in one hand and a glass of milk in the other, Din rejoins them in the living area and finds that _ad’ika_ has climbed onto the table with the holo projector and is as close to Cara’s blue image as he can be without blocking the lens. Setting them down, the amused Mando plucks his son off the table, reseating the boy in his lap then hands him the cooling bowl. As expected, he digs in with his usual gusto, sipping and chewing enthusiastically and muttering “Patu,” under his breath.

Looking back to the transmission, Din sees Cara’s face soften at the little one, and the three sit in silence, enjoying the simple act of a sharing a meal together as a family, well… as much as they can given their circumstances.

When the slurping dies down and the empty bowl is placed aside, Din starts the conversation again.

Clearing his throat, “So what is you two were talking about? Something about a cave?” he asks, looking down to bundle in his lap.

A small nod and wave of the arms followed by broken coos and Din is brought up to speed.

“Ah, I see.” Turning to Cara, “What he’s trying to tell you is that Luke took them all on a trip to pick out their…” glancing down, “kyber crystals? Am I saying that correctly?” he asks. “Yes? Ok, thank you, _ad’ika_. Kyber crystals. Luke took the students to pick out kyber crystals for their lightsabers a few days ago, and next week after learning the theory and importance of these crystals, they’ll begin learning of their laser swords.”

Two sets of eyes turn to laugh at the exasperated creature grunting his annoyance at Din’s misunderstanding of Jedi tools.

“Sorry, not laser swords. _Lightsabers_. But I gotta tell you, _ad’ika_ , they just look like lasers to me,” he teases, and when irritated groan erupts from his son, Din puts his hands up in surrender, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Alright, alright, I give up. You win this time, Master Jedi, I yield.”

Biting through her own laughter, Cara plays along, _“You better watch out, Din. Before you know it, this little guy’s going to have you against the ropes, and then there’ll be a new king of you bucket heads! Isn’t that right, Grogu? When you’re king, you can play as much as you want, and he can’t tell you ‘No’.”_

Her son turns to face her at the mention of his name, and his smile yanks at her heart. Saying his name feels foreign on her tongue, a name she used to call just as often as Din’s, once upon a time, but now still feels undeserving to utter one syllable of it. But this is what these calls are all about, chipping away at her insecurities and fears, reforging her bonds with the two most important people in her life so that one day she can return _home_. Can proudly tell herself that that’s where she belongs, _with them_.

He visibly brightens and climbs up Din’s chest plate to quickly ascend to the top of the silver helmet, much to the owner’s chagrin with exclamations of ‘Hey! Stop that!’, standing tall and claiming victory over his father.

The Mandalorian slumps in his seat, grumbling loudly with a steadying hand on Grogu’s back, the determined boy wobbling at the top of his head.

Sighing, “Thanks Cara, look at what you’ve done now,” he jokes, “Ok, great Mand’alor it’s almost bedtime. Finish your milk, then it’s time to say goodnight.”

With a sad chirp protesting bedtime, Grogu carefully climbs down Din’s armor and retrieves his milk, deliberately sipping slowly to bide his time while he listens to his parents.

Cara’s brow furrows, her face grave, _“Speaking of bucket heads, no one’s paid you any unfriendly visits, have they?”_

Tilting his head, he answers in the negative, “No, why? Is there something I should know about? I wouldn’t say I’m hiding here, but I’m not broadcasting my presence to the galaxy either… Cara what’s going on?”

The holo fizzles, the connection shaky for a moment, _“Nothing, just being paranoid, I guess. On one of my runs a few days ago there were some whispers of Imperial remnants looking for Mandos. Not sure if they meant Mandos in general, or word got around you killed a Moff, but…”_ shrugging, she offers a half-hearted smile.

Contemplating Cara’s words, Din’s gaze falls onto a set of big worried eyes looking up at him from his lap.

Since arriving here to live close to the temple, secluded from populated worlds and systems, Din has been out of the loop from hearing most current news and scuttlebutt. As concerned as he is for his brothers and sisters, he knows his purpose is _here_ , sitting in his lap and hanging off their every word. It pains him to know that his people could be suffering, but foundlings are always the priority. Maybe he’s a bit biased, and the Jedi are capable, but Luke is only one person, and Din can’t bear the thought of losing Grogu, not while he still lives and breathes.

But, if there ever came a time when the Mandalorian’s presence jeopardized his son’s safety, he’d have to choose.

Hopefully that time will never come to pass.

“There will always be those seeking my kind, whether for the beskar or revenge, but my place is with him. Wherever he goes, I go,” Din vows, stroking the fuzzy green head, thumb lightly caressing his scar.

_“I know, big guy. I know.”_

Sighing again, “Since this one here isn’t going to sleep anytime soon, I’ll just ask. You said you were on a run a few days ago, run for what? Still transporting refugees?”

_“Mmhmm. It’s funny, I don’t know if there’s something in my spotchka, or the stars aligned, or something out there is trying to tell me something, but one of the families I’m helping is originally from Alderaan.”_

Straightening in his seat, he clarifies, “Alderaan? You’re sure?”

_“Yeah, I’m sure. Could spot them from a parsec away. Their clothes, their accent. I could never forget those kinds of details. To be honest, I can’t even remember the last time I spoke to someone from my homeworld, let alone see something so - traditional, I guess. I’ve been so busy lately that I completely forgot that the date is coming up, when…”_ she trails off, unable to finish.

Suddenly, it clicks, and Din pieces the fragments together, “The anniversary of when Alderaan was destroyed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been absent from the reading/writing portion of the fandom for a reallllyyyyy long time now, and unfortunately I don't know when I can fully come back. This has been the longest running episode of depression I've had for years now, when I think of reading/writing fic, instead of excitement and glee, I usually feel nothing at all.
> 
> This update is an anomaly because I it just randomly hit me, the set up, the dialogue, all of it, and I suddenly wanted to write. It's difficult to explain, but I'm not going to look the gift horse in the mouth, and I'll take it, no questions asked. 😅
> 
> Hopefully I get hit with that inspiration stick a few dozen more times because I really miss the feeling of just enjoying the fandom, y'know???
> 
> Anyways, enough of my pity party...
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment! They genuinely brighten my day to know someone likes my work, and it helps to keep me motivated to write more! Thank you! ❤️
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://www.flipredmonkey.tumblr.com)!

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop myself, the ideas and plot bunnies keep multiplying faster than I can keep up.
> 
> If you've been following these on tumblr, I promise I'll organize them once I figure out how, so they're both in line with each other and coherent! 😅
> 
> Are you surprised that I have more stuff in the works? No? Thought so... Now I have four (4) different WIPs going on, so we'll see how sane I'll be by the end of summer vacation! 😆
> 
> As always, thank you for viewing/reading, and let me know what you think!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://flipredmonkey.tumblr.com)


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